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Akk loves Aye dearly.
And Aye loves Akk too.
His eyes would light up every time Akk entered the room, and, seemed to hold millions of vast universes within the deep, dark abyss behind those pair of hazel irises.
They would blaze, so brightly that even Akk himself finds them to be blinding.
They were like sunflowers that chase the Sun— Akk’s eyes— with their every waking moment.
The rich, brown irises would be the disk florets, and— Akk imagined bright yellow petals sprouting around the irises—
“Pfft-"
— that would be hilarious, and creepy.
“What are you laughing at?”
There he was, head in Akk’s lap, gazing upon him behind pages of “The Song of Achilles”, strands of hair fluttering in the breeze above his forehead, the sunlight seemed to make his eyes glow even brighter as if blazing like—
“Nothing.”
“You’re not laughing at me, right?” A pout.
“No, no, you’re just—“
"Dashingly charming? Naturally charismatic? Illegally handsome?
"Shameless," Akk gives Aye a playful shove (hoping Aye hadn't spotted the red flush behind his ear), "Keep reading the book or I'll kick you off my boat."
"Yessir," And his eyes were no longer on him.
Yet Akk was nothing like the Sun.
He would stare at himself in the mirror, intensely, anchoring himself with his flimsy arms next to the sink at 3 a.m. when his sleeping pills don't work.
His eyes were nothing like Aye's– they were dull, grey, and dead, as if they belonged to a corpse, with those dark, hanging bags that disparage the orbs slotted into his skull.
And, instead of blazing, they fog up, like smog polluting the air the streets of Bangkok on a bustling Monday morning.
His eyes are so hazed up that he is sometimes surprised that he is not blind or dead.
He would just stare, and stare, until tears began to form and, drip, drip, drip into the sink, roll down the basin, and into the drain, until his eyes began to turn sore and he would plop back into his bed and sob until sleep takes him away to oblivion.
He was nothing like the Sun. Then why does Aye look at him like he’s the Sun?
He doesn’t shine like the Sun, he doesn’t emit warmth like the Sun, he doesn’t beam like the Sun, he doesn’t blaze like the Sun, he doesn’t—
“You okay?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Your tears are dripping onto my book, you’re not okay.” Aye closes his book and sits up to face his boyfriend, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s just— the way you look at me.”
“What about it?”
“You look at me like I’m the Sun.”
“Pft-“
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not, I’m not, keep going.”
“You look at me like I’m the Sun, like I'm radiating, every single time you see me your eyes light up— but I’m nothing like it! I’m like a black hole that ruins everything, I feel like I’m barely alive and I’m a terrible, terrible person, and--”
“Shush, don’t say that about my boyfriend,” Aye huffed,”and I never saw you as my Sun.”
A pause.
“You’re more like.. my Moon. Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yeah.” A sniffle.
“I used to sing love songs to the Moon.”
“You’re joking.”
“What? It’s romantic, i was single and craving affection, and there are so many love songs about the moon—”
“Alright, alright,”
“When I first saw you, you seemed so dark and mysterious with your head prefect aura like mist swirling around you— like the Moon at midnight, you remind me of it.”
“So you decided to bug me like that?”
“You’re the one who kept tailing me and making a fuzz about everything, Mr. Head Prefect. Plus I like myself a good challenge, and your gay panics were entertaining to watch.”
“Shut up.”
“You just said you’re nothing like the Sun, right? Then you’ll be the Moon, I’ll be your Sun.”
The tight knot in Akk’s chest untangled and slithered back into the depths of the abyss— “You’re gonna make me cry again.”
“Aww come here, come here.” And Aye pulls him into his warm embrace, warm, like the Sun.
The Moon meets the Sun at Eclipse, basking in the Sun's radiating warmth as the two merges into one.
“I love you so, so much.”
“I love you too Akk.”